


Payment in-Prisonment

by Phantomdotexe



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dominatrix, F/F, Femdom, Fetish, Latex, Rubber, encasement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomdotexe/pseuds/Phantomdotexe
Summary: Mistress Jasmine and her live-in partner Emily Yusuf are in big trouble when Emily pulls a stunt. It's not the police - it's Phantom and MirageCorp that they now owe a rather serious debt to...
Kudos: 1





	Payment in-Prisonment

Jasmine ran a finger through her hair. It was usually fine to be overdressed at an event. It was absolutely unthinkable to be underdressed, especially when she was attending such a lovely event! The locally-sponsored charity dinners always drew in a diverse crowd. Men and women of all backgrounds, social standings, colors and beliefs would mingle and chat. The free beverages to loosen tongues certainly helped.

Of course, Jasmine, along with Emily, hadn’t donated some massive sum. The two lovers had been randomly invited from a list of MirageCorp customers and small-time donors. Emily had rather loudly questioned the scruples of a charity run by what was a “patently evil corporation,” but Jasmine was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Besides, the couple’s playroom wouldn’t have been nearly as unique without Mirage-made products.

The event had been held at an old Masonic lodge, converted for private events. It had signs of wear and tear, yes, but every chip in the paint and crack in the wood was matched by a gloriously ornate architecture. Dirty brass and polished silver adorned the trim. Rich wood with a smell that couldn't be matched made strolling through the gathering a delight for the senses.

That was to say nothing of the attendance.

“You’re not the only one in a skirt,” said Jasmine with a smile.

“No,” said Emily with a pout, “but I’m the only one in a t-shirt.”

“Nonsense. You really are worrying too much.”

Emily grinned and rolled her eyes. “Jasmine, I dressed for a party. I assumed it would be one of the parties that _we_ go to. You know, the kind with lots of shiny goodness. I look like I’m going to a Renaissance faire.”

Jasmine grinned, and when nobody was looking, patted at Emily’s upper thigh. They both blushed slightly. “I don’t remember seeing anyone with lovely latex stockings at any other Ren faires. Did you?”

Emily grabbed her mistress’s hand and pulled it away slightly. She was smiling from ear to ear. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“You match a number of the guests, and you even fit in with the decor quite nicely.”

She bit her lip slightly. Emily’s love belonged to Jasmine, but her heart was a fiery one. Seeing others downtrodden or exploited simply wouldn’t do. More than once, Jasmine had pulled her from a tussle started over some injustice or other.

Emily wasn’t quite certain what to make of the gala. However, her philosophy told her that something was amiss. The servants were all so quiet. The maids and staff, while grinning, were forced into some supremely tight gear! The hostess that had invited them in had such a tight corset and mind-numbingly snug skirt that she could hardly move from her podium.

That was to say nothing of woman who had served them drinks. She wore a pair of stiletto heels which were locked at her ankles by a leather band. Dark, sheer stockings highlighted her legs very nicely, but Emily kept staring at the huge rubber restraints that bound her from top to bottom! They were wide and lined her ankles, her upper thighs, her waist, her biceps, and then her wrists as well! The poor serving-girl’s whole outfit was a parody of a normal “staff” uniform. Tight latex and tighter bonds made her wiggle and squirm with every belabored step. A thin gag stretched tight over her mouth made her lower face shiny, sexy, and smooth. She had to balance her tray very, very carefully lest she go tumbling down into a squirming, shining pile.

The whole ensembled was tethered with silver locks. Jasmine explained that “PhantomLocks” were custom designs with no obvious release mechanism. The only way to release them was a voice-command. That voice only came from a shadowy executive, and only came when she was well and truly satisfied with a job well done! It all seemed so very unfair.

Jasmine grinned, rubbing one finger over the woman’s lips. “Very smooth indeed,” she sakid. She stared at Emily. She was already contemplating how to use such lovely attire at home.

Emily simply couldn’t stand seeing staff treated like this. Even if their outfits were resplendently sexy, even if they did look good when tightly tied in luscious latex and luxurious leather, it simply wasn’t right to treat one’s staff with such contempt!

The girl took matters into her own hands. She marched over to Phantom and slyly maneuvered herself into Phantom’s ongoing conversation. With a little work, she was able to get the pale mistress to engage with her… and a few verbal tricks later, she had managed to get Phantom to say “unlock” fairly loud. That was just enough to send the entire party grinding to a halt as dozens of slaves burst into freedom!  
  
Emily grinned. Jasmine was less pleased. Phantom was absolutely livid.  
  
  
 **  
**

**===**

  


"Obviously," said Phantom, "I'm not happy."

Emily shrugged as they walked. She put her hands behind her head, laced her fingers, and stretched. "Well, I'm not jazzed either."

Phantom's expression didn't change. The executive had a way of combining a malignant smile with absolute calm. It was, in its own way, quite sexy. It was threatening; it implied that she could - and would! - visit any number of kinky and delectable punishments on you without thinking twice. 

The trio were walking down the halls of MirageCorp's upper floors. It had been a few days since the _incident_ at the gala, and neither Phantom nor Emily nor Jasmine were pleased with the end results. Jasmine was quite aware that a dangerous dominatrix was angry at them for Emily's blunder. Emily was disappointed that Phantom hadn't suffered more, and that most of her "decorations" had been recaptured. Phantom was clearly displeased, though her expression never let it show.

They were on the upper floors now - or was it the lower floors? The offices were all very modern, but it was tough to keep one's orientation, especially after the twists and turns that Phantom brought them past. After a few minutes of silent walking, they finally arrived at what seemed to be a private elevator. The trio stepped in as Phantom explained.

"I do not offer my hospitality generously. It is not in my nature to give so freely of my home to strangers."

Jasmine and Emily eyed each other nervously.

"I am not unfair. There is no need to fear. I will ask for you a fair price."

Jasmine interrupted her. "If it's about money, I'm sure we could work something-"

"It is not," said Phantom. "It is about obedience. You performed a great disservice at the gala. You, Jasmine, brought your friend, and you shall have to work off your debt in the same way as her. After all, it was your decision that brought her here."

Both Jasmine and Emily nodded. "Understood," said Emily sarcastically.

"Very good." The elevator door pinged and slid open. "Jasmine, you'll be doing some private work with me. Emily, you'll be spending the afternoon on the factory floor."

Emily groaned. "You're joking."

"I'm not. You'll be spending every afternoon for the next week working for me."

"I don't understand!" said Emily. "You've probably got loads of people and drones or whatever that are more than willing to work your factories."

Phantom eyed Emily's outfit. Red latex, red boots, black-and-white stockings, a striped skirt, green eyes, purple-green faded hair... she was half the rainbow! "I don't need someone who can do menial work. I need someone with a bit of creativity. Your job will need just the barest modicum of independence and a spark of rebellion."

Emily walked out of the elevator. The sound of machinery was louder now. "I - I'm not exactly a trained mechanic. I don't know if I can do this."

Phantom's eyes narrowed. She flitted her gaze to Jasmine for a half-second, resulting in the absolute most subtle of implied threats.

"I **do.** And you **will."**

 ****

****

===  


  
Emily couldn't stop running her fingers over her body. She didn't want anyone to see; least of all Phantom. Her partner Jasmine was enjoying it much, much more and made no attempt to hide her delight.

Both of them had been given fairly impressive new outfits. In keeping with their new roles as cogs in the corporate machine, Phantom had dressed them both in a corrupted, glossy version of professional business attire.

Matte black spandex stockings ran from the tips of her toes (which were ensconced in a pair of attractive stiletto pumps) up past her ankles (which bore a pair of small straps and locks, preventing the removal of said shoes) and up past her skirt. The skirt, of course, was a thing of pure fetishistic beauty. Phantom explained that it had been made by her personal tailor; one each for Jasmine and Emily. They were, of course, coming directly out of their shared paycheck. This, as well, meant that their term of forced employment had been extended.

Emily fumed, but she couldn't deny the looks. She kept rubbing the rubber skirt. No pockets, but simple seams that showed off her stockings. If she bent over, she was fairly sure that her cheeks would be rather exposed. Her shirt and coat were one piece with small, nonfunctional buttons and and loads of lovely white trim. Shiny, beautiful, glossy fetish fuel. It was no wonder that she couldn't stop running her fingers along the sides of her skirt.

Jasmine was in the same boat, though she wore it better. Even though they were now Phantom's prisoners-come-workers, she loved a nice outfit. Already she was idly mentioning to her partner that they would hopefully be able to keep them after their term of employment was over. The older woman grinned with aroused delight as she painted a picture of photo-shoots and intimate role-playing. She wore the blouse and 'coat' well. If it weren't made of shining latex, it might pass for a secretary's outfit or a 'power suit' for an important meeting. But no, it was shiny and skintight. It stretched between Jasmine's breasts. It cupped her curves and waist. It squeaked.

Oh, did it make lovely noises. Jasmine grabbed Emily from behind and pulled her close, rubbing her breasts on her partner's back. Emily felt a bead of sweat forming on her forehead at the same time she felt her face flush. Her mistress was grinding her glorious body against her back! Emily reflexively leaned back into it, allowing her curvy, compact rear. There was really nothing quite like the almost _dangerous_ sensation of thin latex on thin latex... but it was so exhilarating to feel her partner's body; polished latex curves grinding before the boss came by. 

And of course, Phantom _did_ eventually come by.

"Are you ready for your first day?" asked the executive. 

Jasmine nodded. Emily crossed her arms.

"Jasmine and I will be working together privately. I rely on a veritable _army_ of facilitators. She'll be one of many that make sure things get done."

Jasmine smiled. "I'm eager to help you, Miss Phantom. Believe me."

Phantom pointed a single finger at Emily, waving it in a lackadaisical motion. "You're going to quality control."

Jasmine nodded and left the room, heading to her temporary assignment. Emily simply couldn't help herself when she stared at her mistress as she strode away.

Quality Control was absolutely mind-numbing by comparison. She couldn't get that last image of her partner out of her head. The way that she moved - one foot in front of the other, curves swaying, thighs squeaking, and a subtle lick of her lips as she parted ways - it was simply irresistible. Emily was already longing for the touch and presence of those pink lips or the ogling stare of her vibrant eyes.

Then again, anything would have been better than her 'job.' It was - inexplicably - actual _work_. Phantom had somehow done the worst of all worlds - she'd imprisoned them, dressed them up in an erotic dream, and then sent the rebellious 22-year-old to "work!" 

She was seated in an office overlooking what appeared to be an assembly area. It was vaguely similar to a large assembly line, though she couldn't see past her own little slice of the process. Large dividers kept her from seeing what was before or after this step.

Her step in the process could have been automated by a machine with a little work. Emily, always the conscientious one, took a moment to reflect on the role automation had in society... and then quickly fantasized that she _was_ a hypnotized, brainless slave. Boxes would arrive on a conveyor belt, and Emily would read what appeared to be the customer's profile. 

<font wytiwyg="1" face:"courier"="">CLIENT: Ms. Essraa Seshat, Occupation: Executive. Products contained: Part-56, Part-99...</font>

Essraa, doing something that she was sure a machine could probably do, made a short description of the contents inside... which meant taking the time to browse through a poorly-organized catalog of all relevant products. There weren't that many boxes that came through, and that meant stretches of boredom between shipments.

After just an hour, she was very ready to call it a day. She figured that she could probably kill some time by leaving the office, heading down to the assembly floor. She'd say that the catalog was unreadable or something - and she'd take a look at the products themselves when they arrived.

The most recent box was horizontally-laid, like a chest or duffel bag. She popped the locks and the lid lifted open. Emily yelped.

Inside, gently nestled within reams upon reams of packing material, was a woman who looked as spooky as she did pleased. Her body had been completely and totally laminated by a thin veil of bright gold latex. Emily nearly fell to the ground before picking herself up, and picking over the squirming creature trapped inside the box.

At first, Emily thought that the encasee's eyes were wide open. She quickly realized that she'd been given lenses that mimicked the appearance of wide-open and joyous eyes. Her face was in a massive, goofy grin, eyes halfway rolled back, lips taut, and jaw stretched into the joyous appearance of enforced pleasure. She couldn't quite put word's to the woman's face; clearly, the latex was so blissfully tight that it helped create her exaggerated smile, and a little touch-up work - some paint and printing on the latex exterior - did the rest. She really seemed cartoonish.

The rest of the woman's body was totally nude and encased in the same golden laminate. Emily knew that dangerous companies like MirageCorp always had smart materials and exotic tools to keep people alive, enclosed, and encased. This was surely one of them. It was tight - supremely tight! - and shiny - supremely shiny! It also kept her hands and arms enclosed in such a way that the woman could _pleasure herself_... with a little work. 

The grinning slave's left hand was firmly on her left breast. She was cupping her body as though eagerly stroking and pinching at her teats, enjoying a self-massage and the sudden bursts of stimulation that came with her self-pleasure. Occasionally, her fingers - enclosed as they were - would twitch, moving ever-so-slightly to increase or decrease pressure on her nub. The sacked slave's right hand was between her legs, and daintily touched at her womanhood. Trapped in masturbatory motions, she could squirm just enough to insert her fingers but barely more. It was certainly not enough dexterity to allow her to touch her nub or to go deeper. The poor thing must have been in an absolute _haze_ of horny, ensnared arousal. 

Emily felt sorry for her - and also jealous of her. She looked happy, and , judging by the fact that she was still pleasuring herself in squeaky, shiny squirms, she probably _was_. The interior of the box contained the other products she was originally supposed to catalog and note - aphrodisiacs, restraints, tools to remove or apply the what was termed a "Happysack" and a long licensing agreement. Even in a high-tech box with a latex-encased slave, there was still time for paperwork.

The purple-green haired punk bit her lip for a moment, thinking about the proper thing to do. This was the first time - she could pass it off as an easy mistake. Maybe she could talk to Jasmine later, or expose it to the public. She wasn't sure, but after being chided for her earlier outburst she took the more discreet route and closed the box back up, noted its contents, and sent it on its way. 

Another hour passed. She tried her best not to think about exactly what she was doing. She was being punished by Phantom in more ways than one. It wasn't _just_ the tight, shiny latex outfit. It wasn't just the threats. It was what she had been forced - one might even argue _tricked_ \- into doing! 

At the end of her shift, Emily was _more_ than ready to be done with her task. She was, in a way, growing increasingly envious of the people to whom she was sending these slaves... and also jealous of the slaves themselves! She longed for the touch of her mistress and the privacy of their home. 

When she got to the very last product to be labeled and noted, she stopped for a moment. The sound of two high heels on the cold metal floor gave her pause. Emily whirled around to see none other than Phantom standing before her.

"Ms. Yusuf," started Phantom, "Your shift is over. And you're ready to go for the day."

Emily raised an eyebrow and huffed. "What's going on?"

Phantom continued walking forward. Her face was very peaceful, with just the barest hint of a grin. "I decided to let you go for the day. Of course, you have completed all of your tasks for me with reasonable competence. You will, of course, be needed again. But as I said - your shift is over, and you're free to go home until I next call on you."

"Where is Jasmine?" asked Emily.  
  
Phantom knocked on the case once, and it popped open. Inside was none other than Jasmine herself. 

Emily's lower lip twitched. Mistress Jasmine was so very beautiful, and she felt a great welling within her as she saw the glorious face of her madame so beatifically enclosed in thin layers of latex. Jasmine had been happysacked as well, and was busy trying to feel herself and pleasure herself within a fantastically tight latex enclosure.

Phantom shrugged. "She was caught trying to free some of my products. Very unwise. I think she did it for you, you know. I do believe she loves you very much. So much so that she risked her own freedom to try and please you. Oh, and of course, she failed."

The executive took a moment to stroke Jasmine's enclosed face. She had the same goofy smile and expression, and was making the same grunting noises. She was in pleasure, horny, helpless, and loving every second of it!

"I suppose," said Phantom, "I could offer her to you. Right now she's in her sack and squeaking about like a madwoman. You're free to take her home and do with her what you please. Some people use their happysacks as decorations; others as pillows. If you do take her home, you're free to choose. You could even use her as something a bit more carnal - a rubberized slave to hold and hump and cuddle. There would be a certain irony in taking home your former mistress and then using her as a toy for your sexual escapades. You're also allowed to free her, of course. It's a simple task to take her out of her happysack and let her free. But most customers don't."

Emily gulped. "And what are you asking for in return?"

Phantom chuckled. "It's a rather substantial amount of money. I'm afraid that you'd stay in my employ for _quite_ some time."

She stared down at her mistress and swallowed nervously.

===

Emily walked her home and unlocked it. It had taken her a moment to find the keys inside her purse, and her black latex uniform was so tight and completely sans pockets. Inside, waiting for her, was none other than her mistress, sitting on the couch, sacked, and eager for Emily's touch.  
  
She walked forward, gently took a seat next to the sacked form, and kissed her mistress on the forehead. "I had a long day at work, Jasmine," she said. Emily grinned. So did Jasmine. 

**Author's Note:**

> Jasmine belongs to danteshadow1   
> Emily to Ratekku


End file.
